


Frail

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 10th Century, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, England (Country), F/M, Jonerys, Kissing, Queen Daenerys, Rough Sex, Sex, Vikings, alternative universe, jon is a viking warrior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: Viking warrior Jon believes Queen Daenerys of England to be frail. However, when she invites him to her private bedchambers, he discovers that she is anything but weak. A historical Jonerys AU short story set in 10th century England.





	Frail

..

Jon found dinner with the Queen to be a dull affair. Not only were people not speaking, but they were hardly eating - they merely glared at Jon’s men as they dug into the meat, almost emptying the serving platters before passing them on.

The worst offender, however, was the Queen herself. Jon noticed that she scarcely touched her cup of wine. Instead, she sat at the main table, her lips shut tight and her bright eyes staring into the air.

_ She seems boring, _ Jon thought, hungrily gulping down his own wine before gesturing for the serving girl to top him up, _ and she seems weak. _

Queen Daenerys’ kingdom was rumoured to be on the brink of extinction. Jon could see why; she was pale as if stricken by illness, the only discernible colour being a feigned rouge on her cheeks. He wondered if her detached attitude was truly a sign of her crumbling powers. Surely no capable noble would invite reputed savages such as himself into her home if not because they didn’t possess the strength to fight back.

They were seated in the great hall of the English castle. Stone pillars led the eyes all the way to the wooden beams stretching across the high, rounded ceiling. With no windows, the place was mostly cloaked in darkness, the only light coming from the flickering candles strewn across the wooden tables. Three robed monks were stood in the corner, singing hymns whilst fiddling with their rosary beads. Nothing about the setup put Jon at ease.

If he was at home, the place would be drowned in chatter. There would be no holy songs, instead the local Seer would gather the children around the bonfire and tell the tales of the Norse gods. Men and women would share horns overflowing with mead before later sharing one another, their naked bodies warmed by the thick skins thrown by the fire.

Jon watched the Queen’s face as he tried to imagine her nude, her heavy blue robes replaced with a sheepskin only, her tight lips parted in a soft moan.

_ She would suit me, _ he thought, slowly licking his lips as her gaze fell upon him, _ She would make a fitting addition to my bed. _

As the serving girl returned, Jon grabbed the jug of wine from her hands and filled his cup until the red spilled onto the table. He stood, lifting his cup at the Queen as he shouted: “I have dined, and I thank you for the honour. But I think it is time to discuss why I am here.”

The monks stopped singing. Their hands gripped tight around their beads, and Jon sent them a thankful smile for their silence before turning back to the Queen.

Surprisingly, he found her undisturbed. As everyone in the hall glanced toward her, she didn’t flinch; she watched Jon with the same expressionless face she’d worn all evening as she spoke: “It is not befitting to discuss matters of war before an audience of guests.”

Jon threw out his arms as he gestured at the assembly of noble folk and viking men. “They all know why we are here,” he said, “perhaps you don’t? Should I remind you that we have invaded your borders and set up camp across three cities?” He raised his brows as he sipped his wine, staining his lips red. “Perhaps you don’t deal with these matters yourself?”

He expected her to redden in anger, but she simply blinked at him. “I know all about you, Jon Snow,” she said, “but perhaps you don’t know much about me. I suggest we continue in private. I request an audience in my chamber.” She stood up at once, and every man and woman around them hurried to their feet, their heads bowed in respect as she slowly walked around the main table.

Jon narrowed his eyes as he watched her. “A private audience?” he asked.

The Queen stopped at the edge of the table, her violet eyes shimmering in the candlelight as she looked toward him. “Just bring yourself,” she instructed. “I trust you can negotiate your own terms?” With that, she turned to exit the hall through a door behind the table, the guards stepping aside as she walked.

Jon emptied his mug, winked at his fighters, and then tugged his thumbs into his leather belt as he followed, thinking, _ I will get exactly what I want. _

* * *

Jon expected to be led to a meeting hall, but instead the soldier showed him to the Queen’s own bedchamber. It was a grand room clad in gold, decorated with carved wooden furniture and intricate tapestries. The bed seemed a centrepiece; it had four wooden pillars with heavy red curtains hung between them, the fabric only slightly pulled back to allow him sight of the soft bedding.

As Jon seated himself in a chair in front of the fireplace, he wondered if this was some sort of tactic used by the Queen to put him on edge. _ If so, she has failed, _ he thought, leaning back into the chair as he folded his arms at his chest, his thumbs brushing against the silver Thor’s hammer he wore around his neck. _ I am perfectly at ease with a bed in sight. _

As he was getting comfortable, the door swung open once more, and Queen Daenerys stepped across the threshold. Before the door closed behind her, a wisp of a serving girl followed; her head was bowed and her gaze never once left the floor.

“Is she here to pour the wine?” Jon asked. “I am feeling rather thirsty.”

“I think you’ve had your share,” the Queen spoke, but she still gestured toward the silver jug by her bedside. Jon got up at once to fetch it, filling the two empty cups.

The Queen stopped before her wardrobe, and she watched Jon as he approached with the cup. “Don’t bother,” she said, “I’ve drunk enough.”

“I didn’t see you drink a single mouthful,” Jon commented, but he still seated himself with both cups, emptying the first at once. He turned the cup in his hands, admiring the decorated rim. “This is good work. Whatever they say about you as Queen, they cannot fault your tradesmen.”

“Whatever do they say about me as Queen?” she asked.

Jon put the empty cup on the floor as he smirked: “That you are at a loss.”

“Peculiar,” Queen Daenerys spoke. She nodded at the girl who swiftly reached for her back, undoing her dress with quick, skilled hands. “No one ever says that to my face.”

Jon had a sip of the other cup, but he hesitated at the sight before him. “Is that so?” he heard himself speak, but he didn’t care much for his own words. He sat in silence as he watched the blue garb slip off Daenerys frame, revealing her white, silky underdress. It was only then that he realised, _ She is undressing before me. _

The girl removed her golden necklace, then gently pulled the rings off her fingers. As she walked in haste between the bedside drawers and the Queen, she did not once glance toward Jon.

Jon scratched his beard in ponder and looked from the girl back to Daenerys. She stood straight, as if his leering didn’t bother her at all, and she started undoing her intricate braids as she spoke:

“I know you don’t come for gold alone. If you did, you would’ve raided the monasteries on the coastline. There are plenty of them, all of them holding great treasury.” Her fingertips slipped through her locks, her hair curling slightly as it bounced back from the tight braiding. “What do you seek?”

Jon licked his lips as he watched her. When he first laid eyes on the Queen, he never imagined actually seeing her in any state of undress. She seemed too uptight to ever consider undressing for a man. Yet there she was, her pale skin slowly being exposed as the girl started tugging at her underdress. “Our harvest has failed,” Jon admitted. He had another gulp of the wine. “We can keep animals, but barely grow crops. The English soil is fertile.” He pushed his shoulders back, making himself comfortable as the white dress started slipping off the Queen. “I can see great _ potential _ here.”

“So you come to farm,” the Queen stated simply. She shimmered out of her dress, her naked flesh revealed to him bit by bit. Her breasts were bared first; small and firm they sat on her chest, the nipples round and pink. “I suppose I understand. Without food, there is no life. It is a simple truth.”

Jon stared at her teats, his mouth watering at the sight. He licked his lips once more, trying to keep his brain afloat - but his thoughts were drowning in wine, and he could almost hear the liquid slush around his head as he asked: “Are you trying to seduce me?”

The Queen stared at him. She didn’t speak, but the girl was still working her fingers on her dress, undoing the lace on the back. Once more, the fabric fell, revealing her taut stomach, then her full hips. As the dress fell to the floor, her pink cunt was exposed, causing Jon to stir in his seat.

Blood was rushing through his body. He could feel his cock throbbing keenly.

“I came to speak,” the Queen said. She stepped out of her garbs, and the girl quickly gathered them off the floor. She folded the dress, placing it inside her wardrobe before facing the Queen once more. Her hands were folded at her front, and her gaze lingered on the floor. She stood still until Daenerys did a wave - she then curtsied deeply and backed out of the room, not turning once until the door closed behind her.

Now it was just the two of them, and Jon rested his hand by his crotch, his cock pushing against his fingers through the fabric of his breeches. “You want to bed me,” he concluded. “You think you can win a favour this way.”

“I came to speak,” the Queen repeated. She undid her last braid, allowing her hair to fall freely around her small shoulders. She ran her fingertips through the locks, never once looking away from him. “I understand you view me as frail. It is true - I am in a position of weakness.”

_ You will be very soon, _ Jon thought, pushing his hand against his hard cock. He felt the shape of his length, traced the thick veins of his cock with his fingertips. _ I will take you, and you will want me to. _

Daenerys moved her shoulders slowly, causing her breasts to rise and fall as she stretched her back. “I rule seven kingdoms. They are meant to be one, but they have never submitted as such; I face the challenge of keeping them at peace. Now, I am afraid that one has risen, and I must fight or be deemed weak.” She slowly blinked her eyes, her coal-black lashes perfectly framing the violet of her eyes, and she started walking toward Jon.

Jon pushed himself further into the chair, feeling himself slipping down a bit. At her approach, the hand on his cock started moving quicker, filling his member with more blood. “You need my help,” he said. His hand holding the cup of wine was shaking a bit, and he lowered his arm to rest. His grip on the cup tightened. “You want to seduce me so that I’ll lend you my forces.”

“Is that what you think?” the Queen asked. She stopped before him, her knees pressed slightly together, her hands reaching out to take hold of the armrests as she leaned in. Her breasts rested just before his face, and Jon swallowed, finding himself unable to look away from her stiffened nipples.

“It is what I know,” he said, breathing in deeply as one of her hands slipped to his chest. Her fingertips dragged across his soft tunic, further down to his belt. She leaned in, her plump lips right at his ear, and he closed his eyes in a soft moan as she breathed hotly to his skin.

“Oh Jon,” she whispered, her hand crossing his groin, then suddenly seeking upwards. Before he knew it, he heard the whistling sound of steel crossing leather. As he blinked his eyes open, he looked into her hardened eyes, the blade of his unsheathed dagger pressed to the soft of his neck.

The steel was so close she could shave off his beard if she made one wrong move. He stiffened, not daring to move a muscle as she crawled atop him.

“Oh Jon,” she said once more, but unlike before, her tone of voice was no longer frail. It was mocking, and for the first time that day he saw her lips pull back into a smile. “You thought me weak, but you were mistaken - I am the strongest woman you will ever meet.” Her free hand closed around his groin, and Jon was ashamed to notice that he was still rock-hard. “I will have you whichever way I please. Have you ever had a woman ride you before?” she asked and pressed her lips to his neck. “I hear it’s… _ satisfying. _”

Jon clenched his jaw as he glanced down toward the shimmering blade. He knew it to be sharp as he had honed it that morning. He thought it better to come prepared in case trouble unfolded, but he never imagined the Queen herself to be the cause of his worries.

“You’re sly,” he said, the steel nipping at his skin as he spoke. He turned the cup of wine in his hand, then casually lifted it to his lips to have a sip as he gazed into her eyes. “Do you plan to make an example of me?”

“What do you have in mind?” Daenerys asked, wriggling the steel up his neck until it rested just below his chin. The movement forced Jon’s head back, and he found himself glancing behind them toward the bed as her soft lips trailed his skin alongside the edge of the dagger.

“I should remind you that my best men are with me,” Jon said and licked the wine off his lips. With the Queen’s hand rubbing against his groin, it was hard to keep his voice steady, but he pushed on: “If they hear you’ve done me harm, they will not hesitate to fight.”

“You were rumoured to be a clever man, but I am afraid the tales do not tell the full truth.” Daenerys pushed her nose through the rough hair of his beard, not stopping until her lips were hovering above his. Her breath slippered across his skin and made him shudder as she spoke: “Your best men have feasted and drunk. They are all asleep on the benches, and their scabbards have been emptied. Once they awake, they will find themselves locked inside my fortress. They will not leave alive unless I so decide.”

Jon swallowed and glanced up at her. “What is it you want?” he asked, his voice a whisper to her lips.

Daenerys smiled. Her hand pushed inside his breeches, and Jon gasped as her slim fingers closed around the fat girth of his cock. As she slowly started jerking his member, his mind started slipping, forgetting the keen knife at his neck as his thoughts descended into pleasure. “I want your skills,” she said, her lips shortly pressing to his before trailing across his cheek. Her pecks were brief and left him wanting more. “You’re skilled at war. Your tactics are infallible. I hear you have never lead a losing battle.” Her lips sought his ear. As her thumb brushed against his throbbing cockhead, her small teeth closed around his earlobe, causing him to moan. “I want you to lead my armies.”

Jon’s grip around the cup tightened so much that his skin turned pale. He took in a deep, shivering breath as he clenched his free hand into a fist on the armrest. _ I want to touch her, _ he realised, _ I want to feel if a Queen is as warm and wet as any common woman. _ “You want me to suppress your people,” Jon concluded. “Do you not know why I am here? My men and I tired of serving under a ruthless thane. We are here to make our own destiny. Why should I deny your people theirs?”

“First you think me weak, now you think me ruthless.” Daenerys’ tone of voice was humoured. She wrapped the palm of her hand around his sensitive cockhead, rubbing down his foreskin to reveal a wet shimmer of precum. “You’re a man of morals after all. Do not worry - I don’t battle to enslave my people, I fight to free them. It is my brother who has risen in the South; he wishes to take my kingdoms for himself, and he will kill whoever stands in his way, innocent or otherwise.”

“But what is in it for me?” Jon asked.

Daenerys tugged Jon’s cock free of the fabric. His hot skin throbbed as the cool air slipped across it, but he was soon warmed once more by her eager hand. She stroked him steadily, her grip on him so tight he took in a sharp breath through his nose. “You said you like the English earth,” Daenerys spoke. “I can grant you lands. England prides itself on its grounds; your harvest will never fail again. Under my protection, you will not have to fight for your right to settle. Should anyone challenge your claim, my own armies will defend you.”

“You offer me soil?” Jon asked. It seemed a simple contract, but one which his people desperately needed. Months of raiding had made them rich, but weakened their defences. His men were getting impatient - most of them carried a sword out of need but longed to pick up a spade. “If I lead your armies to victory, you will give me fertile grounds?”

“I will give you fertility,” the Queen promised as she pushed herself to her knees. She held his cock steady in her hand as she led him to her sex, and Jon watched in awe as she lowered her wet lips onto him. His cockhead throbbed at her entrance, her body resisting the intrusion at first, but then he slipped inside, his girth pushing her open. She moaned ever so lightly, and beneath the rouge on her cheeks he saw her flush bright pink.

Jon could no longer hold back; his grip on the cup loosened, and it fell to the floor with a hollow clang, spilling wine across the wood. His hands were on her at once; he grabbed at her breast, trapping her nipple in between his spread fingers whilst his other hand slipped down her back to her arse. With the knife still at his throat, he was restricted to grabbing at whatever bit of her body was closest, but he could feel her hand had started loosening too. The steel no longer bit at his skin, it merely rested there.

“Oh, God,” Daenerys moaned as she settled onto him, his hard cock filling her tight cunt. She breathed in sharply, her breasts rising beneath his greedy hand. “Jon, I want you to make me with child.”

Her words sent shivers of pleasure down Jon’s spine. He grunted as she moved atop him, her sex rubbing to the base of his cock. He liked the way she grinded her body onto his; the prudent attitude she had shown at dinner was long gone, and it was as if the Queen in her had been replaced with a viking warrior. She was strong and needy, and she took what she wanted from Jon, her hand slipping to her nub as she rubbed herself whilst riding him.

“You want a viking child?” he spoke surprised. His fingers pinched around her hard nipple, and he smiled as she moaned under his touch. He dragged his fingertips down across her breast to her stomach, then further to her hand by her sex. He pushed it aside, replacing her fingers with his own thumb as he started circling her nub.

Daenerys shook her head, her wavy locks dancing around her naked body. “I want _ your _ child,” she said and looked at him from between her fluttering lashes. Her bright eyes had darkened with lust, and under her watchful gaze he felt his cock throb inside of her. “I want a strong child, I want a gentle child - a warrior and a noble all at once.” She licked her teeth slowly as she took in Jon’s features, then pressed her fingers to his lips. As he sucked on them, he could taste her juices. “I didn’t just invite you here for your cunning,” she spoke and smiled, her white teeth resting on her plump lower lip as she moaned: “I brought you here for your seed.”

“Remove the dagger,” Jon spoke, his voice hoarse with want, “and I will give it to you.”

As soon as the Queen pulled back, dropping the blade to the floor, Jon grabbed her at the waist and pulled her so tightly onto him that she thought she would burst. Her cunt was stretched, but his cockhead rubbed the sensitive insides of her so well that she could do nothing but moan. As his lips sought her nipples, she pushed her hands across his braided, black locks before grabbing a hold of his head. She let him taste his teats for a moment, then pulled his face away as she leaned down to kiss him.

Their lips moved sloppily across one another, their tongues peeking out to taste the light sweat that was forming on their skin. “Take me,” Daenerys urged him, “take me, Jon. I want you to fuck me with all you have got.”

Jon needed no further encouragement to comply. He grabbed around her back and buttocks as he rose from the seat, his cock still embedded in her as he lifted them off the chair. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist, having no choice but to let him carry her, her cunt dripping from his throbbing cock.

As he pushed her onto the bed, back first, she dragged her fingers across his roughspun tunic and gasped: “Take it off. I want to see you.”

Jon grunted as he knelt on the edge of the bed. Her legs were still at his waist, and he grabbed a hold of her fleshy thighs as he pulled her closer, ensuring his cock never once left her warm inners. “I am not used to being ordered around,” he told her. Still he grabbed a hold of his tunic as he pulled it off, revealing his naked torso. He was about to push himself back on top of her, but the Queen’s hands pressed to his chest, keeping him at a distance as she admired his body.

Her fingertips gently stroked across his scarred skin. “You’ve been in many battles,” she spoke.

Jon was surprised at her sudden softness, and he hesitated above her, his own gaze slipping to the cuts on his chest. “Freedom is not easily won,” he said. Sweat was running down his forehead. His cheeks were flushed from fucking. His cock stirred inside of her, eager to feel more, but he paused, awaiting a sign from her that he was to carry on.

Daenerys pushed her hand further up past his scars to his necklace, and she grabbed a hold of the Thor’s hammer, pulling at it until Jon fell down atop her. As his weight pressed her into the bed, she moaned and kicked at his breeches, trying to get them to slip off.

Jon, less concerned about his state of undress, merely rocked into her, his neck throbbing under her tight hold on his necklace. The leather strap was digging into his nape, but somehow he didn’t mind the pain.

“I wear it for protection,” he explained, grunting as Daenerys’ cunt tightened around him, trapping him deeply inside of her for a second before letting him pull out a little. He pushed back into her again with force, causing the bed to rock beneath them. Daenerys moaned in pleasure.

“What is it?” she asked. She opened her hand, glancing at the silver figure. “A hammer?”

“Thor’s hammer,” Jon spoke. There was something tantalising about her curiosity which made him want to fuck her more. “Thor is the god of thunder. He represents strength, and he offers protection.”

“Just like you,” she spoke. It was meant to be a tease, he knew, but it stirred something inside of him.

Jon rocked his hips more quickly, fucking her dripping cunt with harsh force. She felt so good and warm around him that he could not help himself, and his hands searched her pale skin, fondling her with such eagerness that she started flushing pink.

Daenerys wriggled beneath him, gasping and moaning as his attention to her body pushed her toward the edge. She could feel all her muscles tightening. 

“You have more than one god, do you not?” she gasped. Her hands stroked across his broad shoulders, and her nails dug into his back in an attempt to cling on to something. “Tell me more. Tell me of a female goddess.”

“There is Freya,” Jon spoke as his gaze locked with hers. Her hair was spread across the fabric of the duvet, her face as red as the heavy curtains that hung around them. “She is the goddess of love and fertility.” He rocked into her, gasping as her legs wrapped around his back, urging him even deeper into her. “And of _ sex _.”

“Befitting,” Daenerys chuckled breathlessly. Her nails dragged down his back, drawing blood, and Jon arched into her touch, the pain mixing perfectly with the pleasure of her cunt. She leaned up, her lips by his ear as she hotly spoke: “Then I shall pray to her tonight for my womb to quicken. If your gods are not just mere tales, I will have given birth by the time you return from the South.”

“You will not remain Queen,” Jon grunted to her ear, “if your people hear that you not only fuck vikings, but also pray to our gods.”

“No one will know it is your child,” she said. “I will marry a boorish noble, and I will lead people to believe that he fucks me, though never once shall he spill his seed inside of me.” She fell back onto the bed, her hands dropping from his shoulders to the duvet. She held tightly onto the fabric as her face screwed up in pleasure, and she moaned: “When you return, I shall grant you private lands close to one of my castles. I am sure we can find ways to spend our evenings out of the watchful eye of my people.”

“You’re sly,” Jon spoke with a smile on his lips. As the pressure started building in his body, he grabbed a hold of her hips as he fucked her furiously. Her body was pressed harshly into the bed, and she arched her back, moaning as her nub was continuously rubbed by his length. “But I will pray too. To my gods and yours.”

“What for?” she whispered, her voice but a frail thing.

“For your gowns to stretch across your growing stomach before you can be wed. For your kingdoms to know that their Queen submitted herself to a viking warrior.” He grunted his words, barely able to think as he spoke, and he closed his eyes as he came deep inside of her, his cum filling her cunt. “And for none of it to matter when we rule together.”

At his words, Daenerys let out a pitiful moan as an orgasm rolled through her body. Her cunt tightened around Jon’s cock, and she shuddered under the waves of pleasure that shivered across her skin. Something deep inside of her had been awakened, she knew, something _ powerful, _ and she held onto that feeling of strength as she dropped into the bed, her body absolutely spent.

Jon sunk down next to her, his limp cock slipping from her lips. For a moment, they didn’t touch, just greedily breathed in the air their lungs so desperately needed.

After a few minutes, Daenerys let her fingertips slip down her body as she inspected her stomach. “I wonder if it worked,” she said.

Jon prodded himself up to rest on his elbows as he watched her. He was still breathing heavily, but he was able to speak: “We will know in a few months.”

“I take it the contract has been sealed,” she asked as she looked at him. “You will fight for me, and I will grant you lands in return?”

Jon’s hand slipped to her stomach. The skin on his fingertips was rough, and it tickled her nicely as he stroked across her flesh. “You will grant me that, and more,” he said, before leaning in to kiss her navel. “That and much, much more.”

* * *

Jon could scarcely believe his eyes as he saw her;

Though still a babe, the girl was as beautiful as her mother. Her skin was pale, and the hair on her head thick and black, the end of the locks curling slightly. As she opened her eyes, violet irises greeted him. “She is truly mine?” he spoke in a whisper.

The Queen smiled gently as she handed him the swaddled child, and Jon took care to hold the babe to his chest, his gaze never once leaving her small face. “Can’t you tell?” she asked, her hand stroking across the girl’s black locks. “It won’t be long before you can braid her hair.”

It had taken ten months to defeat the forces of the Queen’s brother. Not because the man was particularly skilled at war, but because he was good at hiding, always retreating whenever Jon’s soldiers came too close for comfort. It was then Jon realised why the English Queen had urged him to use his tactical skills. Brute force would never capture the vile man who burned villages and killed peasants as an act of revolt, and by the time they finally cornered him on the southern coast, it took all the strength in Jon to not just cut his throat there and then.

His journey back to the castle had been restless, his thoughts finally on Daenerys as he had time to ponder how she was doing. But now, as he held his child, he felt his nerves calm as his heartbeat slowed down. “I wish I could have been there for her birth.”

“No man ever wishes that,” Daenerys spoke with a wry smile. She took the babe back from Jon and held her to her chest as she nodded for him to follow. “Come, Jon, we have much to discuss. Let alone your reward.”

“Lands mean nothing to me now,” Jon said as he walked with her through the castle halls. To many, it would have sounded hollow, but Daenerys knew that from the way he glanced at their child, he meant every word.

“So your men shall have lands,” Daenerys said, “but whatever can I give you?” She stopped by her chamber, waiting for the serving girl to open the door before entering.

Jon stepped across the threshold and felt his heartbeat quicken as he looked around. This was her bedchamber, the same in which they had fucked ten months earlier before he left for war. The images flooded back to his head, and he felt himself flush. “You promised me lands, which you have granted,” he spoke, “and you promised me a child, which you have given. I believe the agreement has been fulfilled.”

Daenerys turned to look at him. As she stood in her royal gown, the silky red cascading down her body, and the child pressed to her chest, he thought, _ She is a mother, and she is a Queen. When I thought her frail, I could not have been more wrong. _

“How about a place by my side?” she asked.

Jon furrowed his brows in disbelief. “Surely you are jesting.”

“Your travels through the south has not gone unnoticed,” she spoke as she seated herself by the fireplace. “My people used to fear the vikings, but now you have proven yourself to be their saviours. Many women like your men, Jon. In comparison to our lot, you folk actually wash.” She smiled the last words, but Jon was still too confused to latch onto her quip.

“You wish to have me?”

“When you left, it was still an impossibility,” Daenerys spoke. She rocked the child in her arms, glancing between it’s sleepy face and Jon’s shocked expression. “Now, my people have changed their minds. They would love nothing more than an alliance between two strong nations. Jon - I don’t just ask you this because it makes sense for the prosperity of my kingdoms,” she spoke, her eyes honest. “I ask you this because I wish for you to be with me at all times. I have missed you. I do not want your daughter to miss you too.”

It was with slow steps that Jon approached her. He knelt before her chair, reaching out to place his hands atop hers as they cradled the child. “I would be honoured,” he said.

Daenerys smiled gently. “You never even asked what I named her.”

“What did you name her?” Jon complied.

“I named her Freya,” Daenerys spoke, watching the smile spread across Jon’s lips. “Now, we only have to make another one. Thor, was it?”

“If we have to make one for every Norse god and goddess, we will be busy,” Jon chuckled.

“Well, Jon,” the Queen spoke, leaning down to peck his lips, “now, we have all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to lie - I really enjoyed writing this one! I am a big fan of everything viking, and mixing that period with my OTP was a real pleasure. I hope you also enjoyed the read? I am hoping to do some more viking AU stuff this month. To be confirmed! Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the art - it is amazing as always!


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